


Ronon solo fic

by kisahawklin



Series: Unfinished and discontinued fic [23]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Other, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/pseuds/kisahawklin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't even remember why I started this; I really love Ronon and wanted to write some, I think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ronon solo fic

Ronon hasn't had even a hint of an interest in sex for ten years. _Ten years._ He tried, not too long after he got to Atlantis, to bring himself off in his room. It was too comfortable; he hadn't really wanted to. He'd laid there, dick in hand, thinking about how much he didn't want to do it, how no one even came to mind to fantasize about. 

He doesn't worry about it; in his experience worrying gets you nothing but more of what you're worrying about.

The brief whatever-it-is with Jennifer reminds him what it feels like when his heart beats out of time, and what it feels like when it's breaking. He doesn't begrudge McKay, and he hopes Jennifer is happy. He doubts it, a little, but that's none of his business anymore.

The night they nearly kissed, he was so warm with pleasure that it didn't even occur to him to put hands on himself. The night she let him go, he didn't want to. The tide was out on his libido again for a while after that. Watching Sheppard pine after McKay pining after Jennifer (even though she'd chosen him already; how did he not know that?) made everything hurt, and he spent his time with Teyla and Kanaan most nights. They had an easy companionship he enjoyed, and watching them casually touch and kiss brought back some of the desire to know his body again.

Knowing your body as a weapon is vastly different to knowing it as an instrument of pleasure. He knows how long he can hold himself still, weight suspended by his arms. He doesn't know how long he can hold himself still while he more and more insistently pinches his nipples. He loves his nipples and they are the first pleasurable thing that comes back to him, pleasantly sore from his leather shirt laced a little too tight. Teyla made him that shirt, and he doesn't wear it often - he has a feeling she made it to show off his chest – but when he does he thinks she really must be a master of subtle sexuality. Her own clothes speak of ease of access and comfort, but binding in all the right places. 

He'd played with his nipples for long minutes that night, pleased to feel the little pinpricks of pleasure; his [sexuality] was waking up again like a limb under too much pressure for too long. He played with his nipples every night that week, feeling his body heat up and respond to his own fingers. 

He doesn't try his cock until he's in the shower. Something about the wetness is more pleasing than the heat of his bed, where he tosses and turns into his own pinches and scrapes. He steps under the water and lets it [wash] over his body, a sheet of slick making everything frictionless.

After several minutes of running his hands over his slick skin, Ronon finally brings his hand to his cock and gives it a tentative stroke. It's strange and unfamiliar, the arousal, the spiral of pleasure. He keeps it light, using the other hand to tweak his nipples in between. That helps, something lightning quick, racing from his nipples to his balls, and lighting up his cock on its way.


End file.
